


as long as it takes

by dandelionboy



Category: The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: Afterlife, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Past Character Death, help i dont know how to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:40:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27920917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dandelionboy/pseuds/dandelionboy
Summary: When one suffers an absence for so long, though the pain never goes away, the body grows around the pain and makes the empty space a part of it, and it hurts anew when it is filled again.Or, Patroclus reunites with Achilles in the underworld at last, and everything isn't okay. But it will be.
Relationships: Achilles/Patroclus (Song of Achilles)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 157





	as long as it takes

**Author's Note:**

> hello i haven't written fanfiction in like eight years so please forgive me for this. incredibly self indulgent fic because i kept reading fics where patroclus forgives achilles instantly upon reuniting and i wanted.... just a Little more angst and hurt that doesn't instantly repair itself...

When one suffers an absence for so long, though the pain never goes away, the body grows around the pain and makes the empty space a part of it, and it hurts anew when it is filled again. It is so that Patroclus’ heart aches with - time is meaningless now, but it must have been an age - of love, of memory, of loss of the unspeakable feelings that rush into him at the sight of Achilles, standing before him in paradise. “You’re here,” he breathes, unnecessarily and without meaning to. Achilles makes an aborted noise in the back of his throat, a thousand and one emotions wracking his face, ever open to Patroclus, and moves forward to embrace his lover. 

Patroclus does not step forward to meet him. He could not have said why. Achilles’ face falls, his body pausing before quite reaching him, and Patroclus feels that terrible sensation of tearing in his chest, of loss even when Achilles is here before him at last. It isn’t anger. He never had the flame of rage in his heart, not like Achilles, and even the little anger he did feel towards his beloved had healed over. It's just loss, and hurt, and an emptiness in his heart.

“Patroclus,” Achilles says, simply. It says everything that could have possibly been said, and nothing at all, and draws Patroclus from his own mind. He takes in the man standing before him, and the green Elysian glade surrounding them, and then Achilles’ hand is on his cheek, and the fingers are wet on his skin. “Patroclus,” Achilles repeats, his voice thick with a pain and worry that make Patroclus realize only then that the wetness on Achilles’ fingers is his own tears. He cannot think. He can barely stand, and again the realization of this fact doesn’t come until he’s kneeling on the ground finally in Achilles’ embrace and his hands come up of their own accord to return the embrace. 

He sobs into the bare skin of Achilles’ shoulder, and feels Achilles’ face press into his own neck. Both of them shake uncontrollably, grasping at one another in grief for what is no longer even gone. Even in death, though, the tears run out eventually. They sit in silence. 

Finally, Achilles is the one to break it. “Patroclus... I am sorry. It was... it was my pride, my -“

Patroclus interrupts. “Achilles,” he says, and Achilles doesn’t even try to hide the desperation in his eyes as he draws back enough to look at Patroclus’s face, though Patroclus knows he would see it either way. “I lost you.”

“I know,” Achilles murmurs, returning his face to Patroclus’s shoulder. “So long. So long until you could join me here.”

Patroclus shakes his head against Achilles’ golden curls. It is difficult to say it, even after all this time dwelling on - not just hurt, on love and memory, but on hurt too. “Before,” he says, and swallows and chokes, “I was afraid of losing you to death. I - I never thought to lose you first to your own pride, your own fame.” 

He knows, as he says it, that he is tearing open a wound. He knows from the way Achilles tenses against his body, from the way his face works, from the choked noise he makes. Patroclus knows, now, that he has Achilles. He has not lost him. They will have eternity, now. “You did not lose me,” Achilles says, muffled into Patroclus’s shoulder. “I have always loved you. And yet - “ here his voice catches - “it was my fault, to have lost you. I could not bear it.”

Despite himself, despite everything, Patroclus finds himself smiling. “I saw. To say so is truly an understatement.” Achilles huffs. The brief smile, the moment of humor, passes. “I lost you, Achilles,” he continues, and doesn’t miss the way Achilles twitches against him at the sound of his name. “I was - I was not angry. I could never be angry with you, beloved.”

The silence that follows says what he cannot. “But you were hurt,” Achilles eventually says flatly, a lifetime of love and a second lifetime of self-hatred warring in his tone. Patroclus can only nod, not trusting himself to speak. “Patroclus - I... know that what I did after, I did for you. I could not live without you.” Patroclus only shakes his head.

They hold each other in silence for a moment longer, before finally breaking apart. Patroclus lets himself fall backward onto the grass, a soft sigh escaping, and Achilles remains sitting, his knees drawn to his chest and his arms around them. Patroclus can’t look at him. Once, he remembers, he felt he could never look away from the beautiful face, the golden locks, the chiseled body of his lover. Well. There will be an eternity, for looking, and touching, and more. Patroclus knows this. But right now, he does not know how to fit Achilles back into the hole in his heart. 

“It still hurts,” he admits. He has never been one to hide his feelings from Achilles. “It hurts to know that I lost you, to have seen your pain at losing me, to have remained apart from you for so long, and I do not know how to un-lose.” He gestures out to the side with one of his hands, uselessly, and does not expect Achilles to capture it. Warm, surprisingly smooth fingers caress his own. 

“I was afraid, for so long, that you would not forgive me,” Achilles confesses in return. Fingers squeeze tighter; Patroclus does not know whose doing it is. “Am afraid. I always thought - it is my destiny to become something greater, with you by my side, yes, but - and now it seems that it is I who can think of nothing but you, and you the best of the Greeks, having found who you are without me.”

“Nothing,” Patroclus says, and finally rolls over to look at him. The clenching in his heart, long past familiar by now, is still there, but he carries on. “I am nothing without you.” He does not say he forgives Achilles. There are some things that cannot be forgiven, cannot be forgotten even in the river of eternity, and Patroclus is unsure yet whether this is one. 

He cannot tell if Achilles notices this omission. There is no change in the set to his shoulders, but Achilles’ eyes begin to fill with tears anew. Patroclus cannot bear it, not this, not anymore. He pulls on their still-linked hands to bring Achilles down to lie next to him, and takes him into his arms once more. He presses his lips to Achilles’ forehead, his damp, swollen eyelids, and finally the other man’s lips. Achilles moans into his kiss, melting against him, but then his eyes slide open with a fierce light in them that Patroclus has missed so, so dearly. 

“It was the worst mistake of my life,” Achilles tells him, “losing you. Even before I let you go out on that field. I know that now. I could apologize a thousand times for what happened - “ even now, he cannot quite say it - “and never atone. I don’t want you to hurt.” The last bit sounds quite childish, and they both know it.

“There is nothing either of us can do about that now,” Patroclus says. 

“That’s not what I meant,” Achilles says, his voice growing rougher with frustration and more than a little despair. “I mean - I brought us here, it is my fault, all of this is my fault, and I will do anything to make it right with you. I mean I am sorry, I love you, I will love you until the end of our time here, and I would have you,” he hesitates again, “I would be with you in your pain, I would give you myself, if you wanted me, when you are ready again.” 

Memories of lying together like this and of Achilles’ promises flood into Patroclus’s mind, drowning memories of an Achilles with a blank, proud stare he did not recognize, memories of an Achilles torn apart by rage and grief. 

“I promised you I would follow you anywhere,” Patroclus reminds Achilles. He cannot say no to that face with that light in its eyes. “As long as it takes, as long as it takes I want you,” he swallows, feeling tears again starting to burn in his own throat. No matter how much it hurts. It would hurt infinitely more to ever be separated again from the shade of his love. 

He feels very young and small again, all of a sudden. Achilles makes a noise and pulls him closer. They lie there in the grass, together, one soul in two bodies pressed as close as they can, limbs tangled around one another, the soft sound of sobs rising into the Elysium air. Achilles' skin against his is warm, and Patroclus knows that in time it will awake the desire in his chest once again, and later they will learn to navigate this new pain together, but for now this is enough. This is enough.

**Author's Note:**

> please be nice to me


End file.
